


Glowing

by upallnightstrungtight



Series: staring at the sun [3]
Category: Super Junior
Genre: Asexual Character, M/M, sap, sex toy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-22
Updated: 2015-09-22
Packaged: 2018-04-24 02:05:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,912
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4901368
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/upallnightstrungtight/pseuds/upallnightstrungtight
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Too careful, but so thoroughly his. (Trying goes a long way.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Glowing

It’s a nice, quiet night for once, only enhanced by the faint melody of a clarinet. They’re sitting on the couch, Henry’s arm draped across Ryeowook’s shoulders, squeezed together while Ryeowook answers messages on his phone, one foot idly rubbing along the top of his.

By a rough estimate, Henry’s been staring at his beautiful profile for the past five minutes between the occasional light press of lips to his temple, probably with a stupid soppy look on his face, still indulging after several months because he _can_. He can do that now and it’s not weird, but somehow charming instead, which is the story of many of his successes, really. Nothing’s ready for review quite yet, so he left all that at home. Relaxation is the only item on the agenda tonight.

After turning off the screen, Ryeowook tosses his phone onto the coffee table, the clatter startling. That kind of carelessness is out of character for him. Switched onto high alert, Henry rubs his arm gently, slowly gliding back and forth between sleeve and skin while he waits for words to come out. Ryeowook turns his head and sends him a wan smile, but still nothing.

“Is something wrong?” Henry asks after the long, strange silence. _So much for that._

“No, nothing’s wrong,” Ryeowook says, but he also takes his hand off Henry’s thigh and moves out of his hold, so it’s not a convincing answer. A wave of trembling icicles forms in Henry’s chest and moves out to his arms. “It’s not bad! Please don’t worry. It’s just.” Ryeowook bites his lip, eyeing the table as though it could speak for him. It fails to deliver. “Hard to say.”

“But if I did something…” Henry trails off, unable to pick from a slew of add-ons to that sentence. Upsetting. Frightening. Stupid. Inconsiderate. He can’t think of any actions he’s been unsure about recently, which makes this sudden turn all the more alarming.

Trying for level-headed, he does a split-second mental iteration through his toolkit while watching the hem of Ryeowook’s shirt get squished between those delicate fingers. _Shoulder rub - no, he moved away. Food - probably bad timing. Distraction - seems inappropriate._ He settles for appearing as attentive as possible without leaning forward and undoing the unsettling gap between them. The slightest relief comes when Ryeowook inches back towards him.

“It’s not like that,” Ryeowook huffs after a brief pause. The icicles recede with his fussy little pout, melting entirely watching his long inhale and exhale. They’re back on familiar ground. “I’m trying- I’m supposed to ask for what I want. You said I should, so- I mean- can I just… show you?”

He’s fidgeting in a way Henry’s never seen him do before, or perhaps it’s a new combination, something like fear and anxiety and hope swirling together, bursting out as Ryeowook tugging on his hair and unable to keep looking at any one spot. His nervousness gives Henry pause, but taking Ryeowook’s still hand feels like a reassuring response, like a loving one, so he does just that. Though still anxious, Ryeowook finally looks directly at him again, so he nods encouragingly, smiling through his wariness.

If anything, Ryeowook is _too_ careful sometimes, acting as though kisses have turned him into spun glass. Henry sincerely hopes he never runs into whoever instilled this overcaution in Ryeowook because punching the guy in the face would be a bad idea, but he’s not sure that he wouldn’t do it anyway. He lets Ryeowook lead him, slow and steady, if a tad stiff, his hand squeezed intermittently.

“We. I haven’t. I haven’t been with anyone else since… us, and there’re certain- things I miss,” Ryeowook says, not turning around to look at him, letting his hand go to crouch on the floor. “And it’s not the same doing it myself.”

In all likelihood, it’s better that he doesn’t see Henry’s eyes widen and heart race into a crescendo of terror, distracted as he is by rooting around under his bed. Faintly trembling, Henry manages to pull the chair out from under the desk, falling onto it moreso than sitting. This _has_ to make sense somehow, he couldn’t have gone this long and then suddenly start misunderstanding, that’s not _possible_ , right? “So maybe, if you’re okay with it, could you use one of these on me?” Ryeowook perches on the edge of his bed, his cheerfulness back in full bloom as he displays the contents of a small box, its inhabitants varying in color and size. Henry nearly faints with relief.

“Ohhh, I get it now,” he says weakly. Thank his ridiculous luck, it makes sense after all. Ryeowook’s never asked for something entirely new before; everything so far has been an extension from that first time, fitting into the same broad categories. Not quite the relaxing night he had in mind, but he prides himself on his ability to roll with the punches. Running a quick internal check, he doesn’t find anything that bothers him about the technical aspects, and there’s warmth spreading in his stomach. _He trusts me._ That thought feels really good. Special, somehow. He smiles wide, feeling full to bursting with adoration.

As he processes a second time, though, that balloon is punctured, emitting a pitiful puff as it deflates. Or maybe that’s him. He _feels_ pitiful. He’s a grab bag of emotions, off kilter, not knowing which one will come next.

“Do you- want that, though? To sleep with someone else? There’re. Things I can’t give you. Other things, I mean.” He forces himself to maintain eye contact. He heard plenty about “needs” and “normal” from-

**No.** That stays in the past. Ryeowook doesn’t push, and he definitely doesn’t wield glass shard words to cut him open in hopes of getting what he wants. Fundamentally, Ryeowook is _kind_ ; his jagged edges aren’t sharpened to a fine point to manipulate, but natural, too honest. Henry knows the difference now. It makes him all the more eager to give him what he wants, or more like all the more terrified of not being enough. Maybe both.

“No, I don’t want that,” Ryeowook says, slow and stretched out, looking sad all of a sudden as he sets the box down next to him. “I don’t even like thinking about it. I just- want _you._ ” He springs up off the bed. It’s a confusing time to make sudden moves, his agitated motions mismatched with his somber tone, but when he kneels next to Henry’s chair, it becomes a lot clearer.

Henry smoothes his hand over the back of Ryeowook’s head, working his way around to the rest while he tries to unknot the tangle of words in his chest, hoping they won’t hurt Ryeowook like they hurt him to think them. Because of Ryeowook’s quiet pleased hum, he spreads his hand wide and starts back at the beginning of his circuit, soft hair brushing pleasantly between his fingers while he gathers his strength.

“But, you’ll- let me know if you change your mind?” He means it, he’s always been prepared for it, but it still comes out in a choked voice, like it’s strangling him to say it. Forums are strewn with enough stories from other people to… to worry him. And, more broadly, he’s been way too adventurous on the internet for someone who only has a secondary interest in that information. Purely theoretical, but it’s worked for some, so he has to put the option on the table.

Shocking, when he stops to think about it, that _this_ is the relationship out of all of them that works, but. But if it turns out he’s wrong about that, that it still comes to that and he can’t handle it, he wants to know for himself, to rip off the bandaid, no matter that the thought of losing what they have physically sickens him. “You’ll tell me, right?” Another thing he’s learned again is that being brave can hurt like hell.

“I’d tell you,” Ryeowook says quietly, almost inaudible with his head bent down. Of course he assents; he’s done that from the start, accepting a surprising array of the unexpected with little more than questions to ascertain the boundaries and settle a few points of curiosity. He treads cautiously, releasing them a few at a time while they sit with their knees touching or lie entwined together, tumbling out in his pleasant lilting cadence. It seems unreal. It’s not the only thing. Henry swallows nervously, his breath catching in his throat.

“Don’t keep it to yourself just because you think it’d hurt me. _Don’t_ , okay?” He pleads, the words coming out in a rush, his hand stilling. That worries him more than he’s willing to admit.

Fuck, he’s really all over the map today. He can’t keep his damn mouth shut. Why today? Why _now_ , why all of it, why why why? Still, he can’t unknow how Ryeowook wants to protect him from everything, echoing words and painful memories and loneliness stabbing through him, but he doesn’t need to be protected from Ryeowook himself. Doesn’t _want_ to be. _I’m giving you everything I have. I need you to do the same. I can’t take anything less._

Ryeowook smiles up at him with fond exasperation. “I promise. No one else thinks I have any problems saying what I want, you know,” he says with a laugh. Henry grins and pokes his cheek. He wrinkles his nose in response.

“I’m the expert here. Don’t question me,” Henry says, resting his hand on Ryeowook’s shoulder, thumb rubbing lazy arcs into the base of his neck. Ryeowook scoffs and shakes his head, the corner of his mouth quirked up. He’s effortlessly enchanting. In no time at all, it seems, his shoulders droop. The lapse has come quickly. They’re playing a strange game of tennis with a spiked ball made of their insecurities and scars.

“But I do feel strange, asking for this,” Ryeowook says, hesitation written all over his face. His mouth is drawn tight and a little hill forms between his eyebrows. _There’s that word again._

“How could you possibly be strange compared to me?” Henry tries for his goofiest joke voice, unwilling to let the earlier progress slip away so easily. _Success!_ The lines of tension on Ryeowook’s face ease up a touch as he chuckles, though it sounds strained.

Sensing an opening, Henry shoots him a smug smirk, then proceeds to make ever more ridiculous faces and gestures, getting back up and using his whole body. Encouraged by the results he gets, the sadness receding, he sinks to the floor himself to vary his repertoire and get in really close, the way he knows will magnify the response, until he gets a full bout of laughter, gloriously uninhibited, accompanied by Ryeowook pushing at his chest without any real force.

“Of course, I forgot about how weird you are,” Ryeowook says with a cheeky grin. “You’re such an idiot.”

“ _Your_ idiot. You said so,” Henry says, beaming.

“Mm.” Ryeowook’s gaze softens, then he darts forward to kiss Henry’s cheek. “My favorite idiot in the whole world.”

“That’s really a compliment now?” Henry affects a distraught air, pouting for effect. “What happened to all that talk of how tall and handsome and talented I am?” He gets another chuckle from Ryeowook, whose eyes are shining with mirth.

“I also said you were dirty about a thousand times. Did you forget that already?”

Henry groans. “Give me a break! I get enough of that from Amber, don’t you start too.” Somehow, _that’s_ what merits a soft, sweet peck, Ryeowook steadying himself on Henry’s waist as he leans up. His warm lips linger for the length of a breath.

“Fine, fine,” Ryeowook says, his impossibly exquisite face glowing with love, words petulant but tone pleased. Content. The air lies still in the infitesmal space between them. “Hey, wait a second!” He leans back. “You’re trying to distract me!” His suspicious glare has long since ceased to inspire any fear in Henry, who grins unrepentantly.

“It worked, didn’t it?” He says, smile growing bigger until it’s all gleaming teeth and round cheeks. Foolproof weapon in his arsenal, that one. Not even he could miss how well that works. In this case, working comes in the form of merely being the target of an irresistible pout instead of the terrifying wrath that anyone else would risk by being repeatedly impertinent.

Tilting forward, Henry wraps his arms around Ryeowook and pulls him close. He feels so _fragile_ in his embrace sometimes. He’s not, Henry’s seen that firsthand, even if some of his more extreme measures are worrisome. But Henry values his life, so he’s not about to try to tell Ryeowook what to do.

As familiar arms return his affection in kind, he makes his own comfort instead, whispering soothing words into Ryeowook’s hair in English, easy and safe. “Everything’s okay. I love you. I’m here.” If he goes on long enough, Ryeowook will giggle, saying that it tickles, but it’s not that kind of moment, so Henry kisses the top of his head instead and rubs his back with firm strokes. With a long exhale, Ryeowook melts into his hold, burrowing in further. Hot and cold wafts onto his neck.

“It’s not fair,” Ryeowook says eventually. “I’m supposed to be taking care of you.”

“I don’t mind that,” Henry murmurs, squeezing him tighter, “but your floor isn’t very comfortable.”

“Oh! Of course. I’m sorry about that,” Ryeowook says, pulling back, looking like nothing so much as a scolded puppy. Henry takes that as his cue to disentangle them. He leans onto the balls of his feet and propels himself back up. Ryeowook takes his offered hand, which he uses as a chance to twirl him around and dip him back over his arm, adding in an exaggerated eyebrow waggle.

_Oh_ , that _laugh_ , forever rippling through him. He maneuvers Ryeowook onto the bed before he risks toppling back onto the floor. The next best thing after his laugh is the happy sigh when he’s done. When Henry can settle into the safety of their hideout, into sanctuary, it doesn’t take much to remind him how smitten he is. He bears through the subsequent cheek-pinching without complaint, recognizing now that this is one of Ryeowook’s touchstones to normalcy. Besides, his heart-stopping smile is worth everything.

“So this is the one I want,” Ryeowook says, once again displaying the box that holds his collection and pointing at one with defiant cheerfulness. Henry feels his eyes widen.

“That looks kinda… big,” he says, looking back and forth between the toy and Ryeowook, whose face has scrunched tight around his giggles. Strange how there can be something comforting even about being laughed at. Purple was the word that was supposed to come out, but this isn’t a bad result, he can work with this. Ryeowook takes a deep breath, then falls into laughter again, covering his open mouth and being ridiculously lovable like he always is. Before too long, he takes more deep breaths, Henry’s bewilderment failing to inspire any further amusement.

“Sorry, just, the look on your face!” Ryeowook’s holding in his mirth, but not by much, judging by the look on _his_ face. Enduring this indignity with a wry grin, Henry rests his hand on Ryeowook’s thigh, rubbing little circles with his fingertips.

He waits for Ryeowook to calm down a bit more, then schools his expression and motions with his head for Ryeowook to continue. They’re adults, after all. Technically. “And I’ve been using this one for months,” Ryeowook says nonchalantly, then ducks his head as his words seem to catch up with him.

_Strange_. Almost audible in the air. Despite painstaking attention and gentle probing, Henry’s only picked up hints about Ryeowook’s wavering between confidence and this embarrassment- no, more like shame that he keeps falling into, suspecting there’s a story to be told but not yet comfortable enough to push.

His years of obliviousness weigh heavily on him. What if he was earlier, he can’t help but wonder, when they were young and tired and unafraid? Could it have worked? Would both of them have been spared? A stone of loss sits in his stomach, heavy with shame of his own, dragging him down, so he pulls his focus together to come back to the present moment. _It’s not like that anymore._ He cups Ryeowook’s cheek, nudging him back up to meet his gaze again.

“It’s just us, remember? It’s okay,” Henry says, smiling softly. “I’ve never done this. Is that alright? You’ll help me?” That happens to be true while also distracting Ryeowook by shifting his focus.

“Of course,” Ryeowook says, turning his head to tenderly kiss Henry’s palm, a wave of joy radiating out from the point of contact all the way through his heart. Ryeowook beams up at him from the cradle of his grasp. “You’ll do just fine. Don’t worry. Shall we get started?”

“What? Right now? Uh.” He’s struck inarticulate. While that’s closer to the original plan than this entire discussion has been, it still feels like it’s coming from left field. He does nothing but blink for a couple of seconds.

“If that’s not a problem. I mean. I.” Ryeowook looks at the floor. “I’m ready. I got ready, um, just in case. Since I’ll be really busy for a couple of weeks.” He snaps his head back up, looking startled. “But I can wait! I didn’t mean to-“

“It’s okay, it’s okay,” Henry says again out of reflex, not wanting him to babble in circles, since it never seems to help. Ryeowook doesn’t feel things by halves; if he works himself into a flurry of worry, there’ll be a hole in the floor before he runs out of steam. Best to take over quickly with a firm kiss, revel in the pleasant sensation and get a few moments to reorient as a bonus.

Feeling Ryeowook’s fingers gradually moving up his forearm to cover his elbow and hearing his soft moan, Henry silently congratulates himself for his excellent Ryeowook-handling abilities. _Let me make you happy._ He pulls away and out of Ryeowook’s loose grip. “Just guide me.”

Ryeowook blinks slowly for a few seconds, chest rising and falling in short bursts. Henry puts his hand over Ryeowook’s heart, moving his hand for him to reciprocate, holding it close. “Are you sure?” Ryeowook asks in a distracted way. Henry doesn’t know if a joke about buying him dinner first will translate well, and it doesn’t feel like a joking moment anyway.

This isn’t pivotal. It won’t make or break them. What’s important is that he can give this, and he’s already leaning towards yes, but he thinks for a moment first. He thinks about how he would feel tomorrow if he said no, whether delaying or permanently, what he would worry and wonder about in the days afterwards. Nothing about that course of action sits right with him. He tries again with yes. It fits.

“Yeah, I’m sure,” he says, and it’s enough. He feels like enough, not because of this, but because they can trust each other. They’re going to bicker, say the wrong thing, be careless with each other sometimes, but it’s okay because of that underlying surety that no malice lies behind it. That’s the lighthouse shining through the fog that shows they can work it out. He resolves to find out the backstory he’s been too afraid to ask about after this is done. He’s ready to listen. Asking won’t break them either.

It’s like he barely finished blinking and Ryeowook’s already naked, no longer hesitant, or, at worst, masked by eager haste. It isn’t strictly necessary for Henry to disrobe too, but it’s so rare and his love takes such delight in it that he doesn’t want to take this away, even if he doesn’t really understand it. Ryeowook’s hand grasps a section of his shirt over his stomach in a loose grip, tilting his head in an unspoken question. Henry nods. It’s enough.

In contrast to his own racing to strip down, Ryeowook seems to relish taking over this task. It's become more clear each time that he likes being the one to undress Henry, getting touches in all the while - running his cheek over Henry’s stomach while his shirt’s rucked up, sliding his hands down Henry’s back after he sets the shirt aside, taking off his pants with a light kiss to mid-thigh, one then the other, like a ritual, then each knee as he moves down.

Then, Henry steps out of his pants and Ryeowook sets those aside as well, checking in with a quick ankle squeeze as he unfolds himself back up, smoothing down any stray hairs on both of them. He always leaves underwear in place without comment, like a signal of safety. Just like the sweets he brings with him that only Henry ever eats, or the careful way he slides his legs onto Henry’s lap while they’re curled up watching a movie, or how he lays a hand on Henry’s shoulder for a full second before pressing his lips to the nape of his neck, there’re hundreds of tiny messages that Ryeowook says without a word, each one the same – ‘It's _you_ I want, _you_ I love, _you_ I’m keeping by my side.’

He gives his honesty, his trust, his vulnerability. It’s painful that he doesn’t realize how much of a gift he is.

Ryeowook lies down on the bed, waving one hand to signal to Henry to come over, erase the mere foot that can feel like an uncrossable chasm anywhere else. When he approaches, Ryeowook spreads his arms wide, showing a toothy smile while he waits for his message to get through. There’s some maneuvering involved trying to avoid colliding knees and shins and hands. Henry’s just glad he doesn’t fall on his face this time.

He crawls over Ryeowook, holding his hips back, which makes pressing the length of their torsos flush together all the easier. He knows Ryeowook likes the pressure, the feeling of being connected at so many points all at once, and he also likes the coupling of their hands, sinking his into the mattress.

Ryeowook’s knees lightly clasp his waist, holding him in place as if he’s afraid Henry will disappear at any moment. Fingers interlaced, grounding him, he lets gravity take the remaining inch between them. Their lips connect, sweet and warm, then part to glide against each other, an incomparable elation swimming a circuit through him. He’s caught unaware by how difficult it’s become to remember that anything else exists. He can’t even help his soft sigh when he pulls away, like the besotted fool he so completely is. “You’re mine too. Did you know that?”

“Yeah. But keep telling me anyway,” Ryeowook says, hushed as if with reverence. He’s gone still beneath Henry’s weight. Turns out it might be a cliché for a reason, because it’s really easy to get lost in his eyes.

At times, Henry can’t even _think_ the word “handsome”; it’s too plain, too ordinary for the vision before him. _Funny how the world can see you and yet, I still want to show you off._ But then, little sung snippets practiced in privacy filter through his mind, overpowering him even with the faint echo of their beauty. Quiet puzzles and loud games form a harmonious backdrop. Tantalizing scents come next, twisting around the warmth of here and now. He basks in it, adding it to his collection. He hoards them all fiercely. Silently. He wouldn’t trade these for anything.

“I’ll tell you until you’re sick of hearing it,” Henry says, his smirk belying the tenderness in his eyes. “You’re mine.” He kisses Ryeowook’s chin. “You’re mine.” His forehead. “You’re mine.” The tip of his nose. “You’re all mine.” The curve of his shoulder. “I’ll tell you a million times, just you wait.”

“Love you,” Ryeowook whispers, ankle hooking over his calf. Henry squeezes his hands, too enraptured to have any idea how to convey how happy he is right now.

“Love you too,” he whispers back, easier than ever. That’s enough too. He dips his head again for more of that sweet warmth, unable to tell whether the fluttering sensation at chest level is his own. He doesn’t know how much time passes before he realizes that this is probably off task, if it could be called such.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” Ryeowook doesn’t seem quite as distracted when he asks this time.

“A thousand percent,” Henry says, trying to look confident. It seems to work.

“Okay. Let me just- get everything ready,” Ryeowook says, wriggling out of his grasp. Henry presses back against the wall to watch him, then instantly regrets that. It’s _way_ colder than it looks! So he sits with his legs crossed in the middle of the bed instead.

He looks on as Ryeowook lays out a towel, placing his bright purple selection, a tube of gel, and a condom along the edge closest to the foot of the bed, then lies down, half on the towel with his knees bent, after shooing Henry out of the way and onto the towel as well with only a tiny bit of whining from him. Really, first the wall didn’t cooperate and now he has to keep moving around like one of those snakes that’s bad at eating apples because it keeps eating itself.

He fervently hopes that there isn’t a color-coded battle plan sitting in a drawer somewhere. When Ryeowook’s set on a course, he’s kind of a miniature bulldozer. He props himself up on his elbows and watches expectantly.

Henry glances at the spread and shrugs. There’re weirder things to be into, if his guess is correct, so he takes his time preparing the equipment, Ryeowook’s eyes glued to his hands right up until he wipes off the excess gel.

After Ryeowook moves the pile of pillows around so that he can lie back on it without losing visibility, supported by the headboard, he spreads his legs wider and scoots his hips forward, leaning his thighs farther back towards his chest, then nods vigorously with that one expression where his mouth’s a bit open and his eyebrows are scrunched up, but not angry or sad or worried. Maybe it’s a turned on one? Henry’s never been able to get his face to do that, even after trying for five minutes straight in front of a mirror, so he doesn’t know what it is.

The nodding’s quite clear, though, so he shifts around his folded legs until he can sink down enough to get a good position. It doesn’t _look_ like it’ll fit. _Well, people supposedly do this all the time, and he’s never lied to me before,_ he thinks, gently pushing it forward while trying different angles until it slips inside.

He keeps a firm grip on the base, stopping for a few seconds when he feels any resistance. He’s learned that Ryeowook likes the scrape of teeth along the back of his thigh, into the crease and over the gentle slope of his ass, especially when he’s tense with anticipation like this, whimpering a breathy bitten-off curse at the sensation it produces.

He doesn’t like biting - didn't take much to cross that off the list - but rather gentle touches, so light they look like they should be uncomfortable, or soft nuzzling into his side and the hollow of his hip, which still faintly smells of lavender at the moment. _Oh. Got ready._ The pieces click together. It’s touching, making Henry’s chest go tight all over again, and he hides his smile against Ryeowook’s ankle. He understands now, how Ryeowook seemed to become more meticulous than ever about grooming himself, how his hair always smells sweet when he visits, how it fits into his fretting about exceeding Henry’s tolerance, even if he doesn’t put it in quite those words.

Finally, the toy’s as far in as it’ll go. Pause. Hold. Ryeowook's thighs jerk almost imperceptibly when Henry swallows him down, just like every time. _One advantage of a short boyfriend - proportional._ Since Henry knows that could be a sore spot, he wisely keeps that thought to himself. The one about picking him up, too, for that matter. In fact, better to consider the whole subject off limits.

Laughing right now might give away his thoughts, or, at best, get him into a bucket of trouble, but branching off to a related tangent while he presses harder with his tongue is good enough. Ryeowook’s panting brings to mind the way he looks at Henry sometimes; one moment, he’s happily watching him eating, elbow on the table with his chin resting on his palm, then the next, his pupils widen and his lips part, and suddenly, he’s dazed and his chest much more visibly rises and falls with his breathing. Kind of funny, yet also unexpectedly endearing.

He starts moving, very slowly, watching carefully for anything other than panting and whimpering and squirming. Squirming is good, surprisingly. There’s still so much to learn. Ryeowook’s gripping one of his pillows so hard that it slips out of his grasp and falls off the bed. That’s _probably_ good, but Henry stops everything, just in case. “You okay?” He asks.

“Yeah,” Ryeowook moans in reply. “Keep going. _Please._ ” Unequivocal turns into vocal as Henry takes him in again and ramps back up, settling the speed of the toy at about half the pace of the bobbing of his head. He can’t help but smile for a moment at the squeak and the slew of praise this brings, disjointed fragments crashing into each other as if Ryeowook barely has any idea what he’s even saying.

Henry thinks of how they got here, how this man started as the nameless angel he saw when he opened his eyes, making sure he ate, then became the friend shedding tears over his plight, more beautiful than anyone had a right to be, and finally ended up as the lover in his arms through the baffling providence of his spark of courage igniting into a vast flame reaching to the skies. That, in turn, helps him figure out how to finish that one line he’s been stuck on for over a week.

Then he thinks about what to order for dinner. Way too late to get ice cream, but definitely sometime soon.

They’re clearly not going to discuss that right now, and his mouth’s occupied anyway, so instead, he tries out angling the toy slightly upward as he pushes it in. Within moments, his head is being squeezed by Ryeowook’s thighs with a strength to rival the volume of his moans.

_Now_ Henry’s laughing, because this is why it’s usually safer vertically, his hands pinning Ryeowook’s hips back against the wall. Or the door. Or the side of the counter, that one time, the one where the edge doesn’t stick out. Plus, his doe eyes and the way his legs tremble and the face he makes like his brain has gone offline is _adorable_. He pushes one of the aforementioned thighs off his head with a bit of difficulty, still chortling with a full mouth. Good thing he can multitask.

“So- _ah_ -oorryyyy,” Ryeowook manages to say, raw and a touch hoarse. It’s so thoroughly _him_ , to go right up to the limit of his self-control and then past it without even realizing. A good sign, ultimately, that he doesn’t monitor that like a submarine radar screen for missiles, that he knows he has a margin of error. If there’s safety to be had, Henry will gladly give it. _Mine_ , he thinks for the hundredth time today.

He places his free hand in the middle of Ryeowook’s abdomen, pressing just enough for its presence to be felt. One of Ryeowook’s hands settles over his, clutching it, the other still gripping a fistful of the bedsheet.

Henry lets Ryeowook’s cock slip out of his mouth while upkeeping the smooth, silent slide of silicone. “You’re doing so good,” he says, trying for the husky tone that he’s heard from Ryeowook at times like these. It’s not evil if his unsuspecting target enjoys it, right?

The press of his hand moderates Ryeowook’s upward jolt, and he’s pleased with the desperate groan he’s elicited. _That one always works._ Then he’s trying not to laugh with a full mouth again because he licked his way from base to tip before slowly sliding his lips over the head and he might’ve just understood why he keeps thinking about ice cream. He can’t imagine having these kinds of thoughts all day. _How would you get anything **done**? Besides,_ he thinks as he swiftly sinks down, _the ice cream wouldn’t even appreciate it._

It turns out anticipation may have been an understatement, given the speed with which a high, loud “ahhhh!” echoes through the room, followed by huge, heaving breaths. The taste isn’t too bad - nowhere near as bad as that fish sauce, that’s for sure - and the remnants don’t linger for long. He does his best to edge the toy out gradually, but after the first couple of seconds, it lurches out practically on its own, much to his surprise. He blinks, then leaves it on the towel and turns to brush his lips over the side of his lover’s knee.

Once he climbs back up to the head of the bed, Ryeowook accepts the probing of his tongue with relaxed ease, giggling in between drawing him further into his mouth and letting go, his hand curling over Henry’s hip as if he has a sixth sense for finding it. It’s absurd how adorable he is like this. Eventually, Ryeowook’s laughter overpowers his desire for more kisses and he turns his head, closing his eyes while his shoulders twitch with his soft snickering and letting his hand flop back down onto the bed.

_Is this what they mean by fucking someone’s brains out? I thought that was an exaggeration._

Henry’s not altogether clear whether he can’t understand what Ryeowook’s saying because the words are unfamiliar or because they’re nonsense sounds strung together, but he looks serene and happy regardless. No painting could match his allure, his skin gleaming with sweat and his hair disheveled, tranquility emanating from every pore. Henry hovers over him and kisses his forehead. “You still owe me another massage, by the way.” The part he doesn’t say is, _I wanna wake up next to you tomorrow._ His chest aches with longing, heavy, suffocating, squeezing his heart.

“Ooooookaaaaaay,” Ryeowook says, giggling. Henry smoothes his hair back. _How can he be so damn perfect?_ There’s some kind of weird sound- oh. That rumbly, raptor-like gurgling was Henry’s stomach. _Oops._

“What do you want for dinner?” He asks, fairly confident that cooking is out of the question at this point.

“Hmmmmmm? Fooooooooood. Yeah,” Ryeowook says, the vowels cresting up and splashing back down, then he lets out another chuckle, showing little sign of being functional anytime soon. Despite the graceless way he rolls over onto his stomach - getting onto his side before flopping down the rest of the way, one of his arms disappearing from view beneath him - the dip of his spine, his toned legs, the flowing shape he forms is unbearably elegant.

Grinning, Henry pats the back of his shoulder. “I’ll just order for you.”


End file.
